Red Dawn
by Sirabella
Summary: WORK IN PROGRESS. Begins at the end of X2. The XMen have returned to the mansion, one short. Xavier remembers Jean and what she has always been to him. But is she gone for good?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: The X-Men are not mine. They belong to Marvel Comics, I think, and probably others whose names I don't know.

'The mansion...it's too big.' It was the first thought that crossed his mind as they landed in the courtyard. Storm was fetching his wheelchair and had left him in the arms of the newest member of their team—the one they called Kurt, one whom he might have been eager to welcome, once...now he accepted the addition to their group with little comment. He looked around; just because _she_ was gone, it didn't mean he was absolved of responsibility towards the rest of them. Rogue seemed to be taken care of; Bobby was crestfallen, but he was bearing up and helping her well enough. Logan, strangely (but perhaps not so strangely, after all) was clinging to Scott, afraid now, now that he knew what loving such a woman meant. Xavier looked away; it was nothing he could share in. What Jean was...had been...to him was nothing he could share with anyone. He knew that when Logan and Scott entered the mansion, it would close in around them; both of them would feel suffocated, feel the need to get out, anywhere to escape everything around them and inside them. But to him it looked and felt empty. Jean had been the first child to step over its threshold in many, many years, and the house had immediately felt the difference, like a change in the wind. The austere façade of a Victorian mansion had fallen away, and in its place rose up a bottomless well of light and restless energy, as if it knew how to offer the young girl a home of her own and replace her confusion with comfort. The change in him had been no less immediate. Jean had been strange to him at first; uncomfortable with herself, but strong-willed; stubborn, but eager to please; affectionate, but withdrawn. He had always thought that his greatest achievement in a long career of philanthropy was earning Jean's trust. He had felt like Sisyphus fighting an uphill battle all the way, with Jean's wariness sitting like a great load of stone on his shoulders. But from the moment his eyes locked with her frightened ones, he knew that he would stop at nothing to erase that fear. In that moment, everything he had became hers. Many other children came; students, wards—refugees from the outside world. His home became a school, and a sanctuary. And he became the staunchest support of people, rather than populations. Yes, many others came; but she was first, always.

He saw little of the X-Men for the rest of the day. Storm was talking to Kurt in the library; it seemed she was in great need of the one thing he had in endless supply: faith. He could hear them both—he was in no mood to keep up his usual tight rein on the shields around his mind. And a subconscious piece kept whispering that if he kept his mind open, if he let all the voices invade, maybe one of them might be hers. He swiveled his attention away from the pair by the windows; that was where Jean used to sit when she had questions for him and didn't want the necessity of eye contact. She had discovered very quickly that it made the mental communication that was so essential a part of her training very strong and very painful, and it was too direct at first for their stilted, professional conversations. He smiled as he remembered the day, months later, when she had finally believed that he hadn't been spending all their time together reading every thought in her head.

_"Jean, only five minutes more. You're doing well; just try to hold to one thought. Pack it down like ice. Don't let me through." The red ponytail tossed angrily as Jean threw herself down on the library floor in a sulk.  
"I don't see why I have to keep doing this. You always get through."  
"Not always. One day you'll be strong enough to keep me out and control your power, and I won't be able to help you then. You need to practice now, while— "  
"While you can control me," she snapped. Xavier sighed.  
"Jean, we've been through this. I'm teaching you to master your power, to control it so that it can no longer control you, even harm you."  
"You mean other people. Like you, or humans. You want me to be under control because you're afraid of me." Xavier did catch her eyes then.  
"I'm afraid of many things, Jean, but you are not one of them." Her eyes widened for a moment, then she lifted her chin.  
"Prove it." She wilted a little under his stare as he scrutinized her, minute after minute until she felt as if they were a couple of statues posed opposite each other in a museum.  
"Very well." He lifted a hand in her direction. "Come here." She stood before him, like a naughty child waiting for punishment, so the shock when his mind crashed over hers almost bowled her off her feet.  
'Get out,' she hissed. 'Get out of my head.' The answering voice was calm, although not quite as steady as it usually was._

_'I will not hurt you, Jean. Focus on one thought, and whatever it is, don't let me hear it. Focus; stay in your own mind. And listen.' It was a strange word to use, Jean thought, as his thoughts and emotions washed over her. It was not really like listening to sound, and yet it was a kind of perception, like seeing a mirage or hearing an echo, far off in the distance but almost close enough to grasp. The only difference was the undeniable truth of this...experience. She felt his frustration at being met at every turn with her hostility or petulance. She felt his need to break down her wildly firing telepathy, amazingly, not for his own interest in control or power, but for her own safety and sanity. And she felt his affection, even devotion, and his fear—not of her, but of failure. She knew that he occasionally helped mutants who were in trouble, and she had held it against him. Shame overcame her mental control, and in the few seconds left before their link would become too strong to sustain, she sent: 'I'm sorry. I just didn't want to be your science experiment.'_

_When they had each pulled back, there was silence in the library for a few moments. Xavier gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand lightly. "Lessons are ended for today," he said quietly. "You're free to go." Jean hesitated for a moment. Normally she would have raced outside, eager to taste the wind and the sunlight for the few hours of the day she could call her own. But she didn't leave._

_She turned towards the bookcases. Jean knew, as very few did, that Xavier's library, unlike those gathering dust in the mansions of many wealthy families, was not for show; every book in that room was a dear favorite, thumb-worn and, in many cases, crinkled with age. She had initiated a minor exploration on her first day in the mansion but had not returned since except for lessons, and for discussions with the professor that greatly resembled lessons. But now she was determined to discover what it was about all these books that he loved so much. She picked one at random and slid it into his hands, climbing onto the window seat and saying softly: "Read to me."_

_He nodded, opening the book carefully, and began to read aloud. 'Captains Courageous, by Rudyard Kipling' wasprinted on the title page. He wondered briefly if she knew the story of the rich, spoiled young man who, by an accident of fate, landed on a fishing boat and, after being brought down a peg or two by the captain, spent his time there learning the difference between boy and man. After a while Xavier discovered she had no idea which book she had chosen, as all the particularly applicable passages invariably caused a roll of her eyes and a slight smirk. After a while, though, she grew very still, and he thought he knew what was coming. "I'm not that horrible, am I?" she whispered._

_"Children learn," he said simply. "More easily than adults, and better. You're young, Jean, and you've already come so far. Time, and I, will help you the rest of the way."_

_"But what if..." She seemed unable to finish._

_"But what?" he asked gently._

_"What if you spend all that time training me, and it isn't worth it? What if I can't be this strong, in-control person you want me to be, and I end up really hurting someone, or myself, or you? What if...what if I just can't do it?"_

_He looked straight at her again, without touching her mind, merely gaining her attention. "I'm here," he said firmly._

_She smiled and turned to look out the window. "Guess I'll be ok, then," she murmured.  
_

She was not ok. But he knew that she would be, if the choice had been his to make. And that was some comfort.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I wanted this to be a short little thing; Xavier loses Jean, Xavier gets Jean back. But it's taken on a life of its own. I've taken some license with the Phoenix/Dark Phoenix events, partly because I can't remember exactly what happens, and partly because it's my story, and I want it to go the way I want it to go. No aliens that only differ from humans in their sense of fashion, no outer space, no flying into the sun. So I guess you could say that I'm only keeping the fact of the Phoenix and ditching all the rest to suit my own storyline :)

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Xavier barely looked up when Scott came barreling into his study without knocking. With the loss of Jean, Scott had assumed more responsibilities as a teacher, and his patience, although great, was not infinite. It was probably just another student prank for which Scott had come to him to dole out punishment. Scott was not a pushover; on the contrary. His temper had fed on his grief, and when a student was insubordinate enough to truly provoke him, he never trusted himself anymore not to show more anger than was necessary. Xavier had tried to tell him that his recognition of the danger was proof enough that he could handle things, but Scott never believed him. His reason to trust blindly that things would be alright had been obliterated by Jean's death.

"Scott. What is it?" The words were routine now. But Scott's answer wasn't.

"Professor, it's trouble. Big trouble. As in 'we might even need Magneto's help' trouble. Logan was injured; if it had been anyone else...well, let's just say it took him over 5 minutes to stop bleeding."

"I see."

Scott fought down the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't like to think what it would take for Xavier to actually panic. "I don't know what attacked us; it was like a big ball of flame that shot down from the sky. Logan was about five feet from the center of the blast. Storm got a few minor burns. Anyway, the point is, we have to do something before this thing incinerates the eastern seaboard. For starters."

"Yes, of course. The first thing we need to do is find out what it is that's causing this...phenomenon. If there is an intelligence behind the attacks, we might be able to communicate with it, find out what it wants. We'll have to take the jet."

"We?" Scott was instantly suspicious. Xavier hated flying in the jet; he avoided it unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Yes, we," Xavier said, smiling. "It isn't my favorite method of transportation, but in this case, it's the only way to avoid—incineration, as you put it. And if there is no way to know what is fueling the flames, I might still be able to communicate telepathically. I should accompany you."

Scott grinned. "Ok. You can be my co-pilot. If you remember how to fly."

Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Young man, I flew in the air force before you were even thought of, let alone born. Show me to the cockpit and stand back." As Xavier had intended, Scott laughed. He mentally made another chalk mark on the tally. Scott's smiles were often forced now, and his laughs were extremely rare. These days Xavier found himself fathering Scott the way he used to, and the way he had Jean, when they were both teenagers, and he felt guilty; it felt like a betrayal, as if he were allowing Scott to take her place. But he knew that it was what Scott needed, at least for now.

They spent the time that it took to board the jet talking about the students; even when there was no evil looming, days at Xavier's School for the Gifted were hardly boring. "Rogue's incredible," Scott admitted as they took off. "She's grieving, hard. But Storm and I have both noticed how well she's doing in class. She's one of the best students of her age group, and she and Bobby haven't just stuck together; they've created quite a circle of friends around them. On top of that, she's doing everything she can for Logan, too. I've tried, but...well..."

Xavier gently finished the sentence. "The grieving, he could share. You loved her in the same way. Except she loved you, not him. And that part hurts more, not less. He resents you for that, and you resent him. For missing her the way you do."

Scott swallowed hard, keeping his eyes on the jet's flight path. "I feel...this claim on her, like she was mine. It's ridiculous...I never felt this way before...but now, without her, I feel like he isn't allowed to feel what I'm feeling—because she belonged to me."

"That isn't ridiculous, Scott. As a living, breathing person, Jean had a free will and a choice. That choice was you, and as long as that was certain, you didn't need to feel possessive. But your memories are yours, and no other's, just as his memories are only his. And because of the way you both feel, there is some overlap, whether real or imagined. In a way, you feel that you've lost part of Jean to Logan, and you're only trying to get it back."

Scott sniffed loudly; he hadn't cried since the week after Jean's death, and he didn't plan to change that anytime soon. "You don't have to do this, you know."

Xavier chose to play dumb. "I explained to you, Scott; I might be the only one who can speak with—"

"Professor!" Scott cut him off, annoyed. "You know what I mean," he said contritely. "I know you miss her too. And you don't have to pretend you don't for my sake. I appreciate it, I really do, but it's not fair to you."

"And I appreciate you saying that," Xavier answered quietly. "But we all have different ways of healing. This is mine."

"Well, I won't argue. Thank you."

"You're welcome." They flew in silence for a long while. Xavier smiled grimly to himself; there was no need to track this thing. Its 'footprints' were extremely hard to miss.

They finally found it descending on the Bronx. Scott gasped. "Professor, all those people!"

"I know; we need to be quick. I'll try to speak to it; you try some more standard methods of communication. One of us needs to reach it, now." He opened his mind immediately, and mentally stumbled; it was almost too strong for him. There was a wall of hate blocking his path, and he pushed against it. To his surprise, it gave, and he began wading through the jungle of the creature's thoughts. For a creature it was, decidedly. There was no higher order from above; the fireball _was_ their adversary. He forced himself to keep going; there were so many shapes, reaching out tendrils to try to take root in his own mind. There was a great ocean of despair that he felt almost crashing over the top of his control, but he just barely held his ground. He realized almost immediately that a lot of the hostility was a show for his benefit; the creature was curious about him and only wanted to assert its superiority just in case. When he felt he could speak without lessening his hold on the creature's thoughts, he did so. 'You're hurting them,' he told the creature. 'Please don't do this.'

Its answer sounded slightly regretful. 'I need them,' the fireball said. 'I need power. They nourish me.'

'Where did you come from?' Xavier asked it. 'Isn't there anything that can nourish you there?'

The creature sounded annoyed. 'There is nothing where I came from. Only emptiness. All I can find is nourishment. Here.'

Xavier thought for a moment. 'If you keep on consuming us, _killing_ us, eventually there will be only emptiness here, too. Neither of us wants that.' As he spoke, he became increasingly aware that the creature's mind was eerily familiar, as if he'd been here before. 'Do I know you?' he asked uncertainly.

The creature pulsed with a wave of gleeful pride. 'You know us,' it crowed. 'We can reveal ourselves. This is a great day for us. We are tired of hiding.' It swept away the last walls between them, and Xavier was lost in shock and wonder at the sight.

'My God,' he whispered. 'Jean...'

'She is not here,' the creature said shortly, now using Jean's voice, and Xavier trembled, trying desperately to keep his focus. 'She helps me. She can nourish me without being destroyed. We are strong together, but she is fighting now, not giving so much help. I need other nourishment.'

Xavier had an idea. 'Will you let me speak to her? Maybe I can change her mind.'

The creature seemed wary. Finally it agreed, and Jean's image rose up in his mind. It was her face, her voice, and most importantly, it was _her_. 'Jean...' he said softly, cautiously, still half-afraid that it was the creature in contact with him.

'Professor?' Her voice sounded weak, and he felt a new terror sweep through him at the thought that he had gotten her back only to lose her again when her strength gave out. She smiled tiredly, hearing his thoughts. 'I'm alright; it can't kill me, not here, and it wouldn't anyway. I'm the engine room in this steamboat.'

'So I've heard,' he answered wryly. 'Jean, can it hear us?'

'No, it gave us room to talk privately. It will only hear my signal when we're finished.'

'Jean, I have an idea. If you can cooperate with it fully, fuel it enough to keep it from burning half of New York to the ground, that might buy us some time to find an alternate source of nourishment, and—get you out of there.' It only hit him then; Jean was alive. He was talking to her. And there was a good chance he could bring her back—in a way, erase all the agonizing months of grief sitting like a plague on the mansion and its occupants.

'I'll do that,' she said softly. 'Charles. I'm so sorry. I hope you can understand what I had to do...'

'It's alright,' he said, even though it really wasn't. But it might be, at least somewhat, if they got her back. 'Just hang on; we'll be back with a plan.' He forced himself to speak with the creature again when it suddenly reappeared; it would be extremely suspicious and angry if he left without another word. 'She will help you now. You don't need to hurt those people to feed yourself.'

The creature was pleasantly surprised, and its tone was jovial. 'Good. This is a better way. Many thanks.'

'And the same to you, for letting me see her,' he answered politely, and he let the creature see only a small part of his relief, as if Jean were a casual acquaintance he never expected to see again. He didn't want it to think he was leaving too quickly for comfort. He severed the link and turned to face Scott, seeing in his companion's expression that all the strain of his encounter was showing on his face. Scott was white as a sheet.

"Professor, what in the hell just happened? What took so long?"

Xavier only stared at him for a moment. He placed a shaky hand over Scott's where it lay on the controls and murmured: "She's in there, Scott. She isn't gone; she's _in there_."


End file.
